


Turning Wine Into Sweat

by SaucyWench



Series: Cups and Roses [12]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blood Drinking, Consensual Non-Consent, Dubious Consent, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 20:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6872770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaucyWench/pseuds/SaucyWench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Man makes plans and God laughs.  Or rather, a vampire makes plans and a god laughs, until it isn't funny anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning Wine Into Sweat

**Author's Note:**

> I used the tag for rape/non-con because that is how it reads even though Anders agreed to everything. The dubious consent comes into play when Anders starts having second thoughts.

Anders could usually tell when it was coming.  Mitchell would start getting cranky and restless.  He didn't say anything about it though.  This was a thing where Mitchell needed to take the lead.  If he tried to bring it up, Mitchell would just put it off longer. 

The day after he snarled at a stranger for bumping into him, Mitchell approached Anders.  It was after dinner, and they were sitting on the couch watching television.  Mitchell was fiddling with the fringe on a pillow before he dropped it aside and turned to Anders.  "I need to do something about it." 

Anders didn't pretend to not know what he was talking about.  He set his drink on the table and said, "Okay.  Now?" 

"I was thinking we could try something different this time."  Mitchell shrugged and stared at the pillow, looking like he wanted to hug it again.   

Anders wasn't fooled by the nonchalant tone.  For Mitchell to try and downplay it, this must be something he wanted badly.  "What do you have in mind?" 

"Do you trust me?" 

"Of course."  That wasn't even a question in Anders' mind.   

"Enough for me to take away your safeword?" 

That made Anders pause.  He'd only had to use his safeword a few times, and it was usually over something like a restraint cutting off his circulation or his arm being at a weird angle.  Sometimes Mitchell could push him right to the edge though, enough to make him think of using the safeword and stopping the scene.  He trusted Mitchell to stop if he asked, but he wasn't sure what Mitchell was asking for with this.   

"You know I trust you, Mitch, but tell me what you want to do.  Then we can decide together," Anders said.   

Mitchell was still staring at the pillow as he said, "I want to scare you." 

"Okay?"  Anders drew out the word.  "I'm still not sure what you’re talking about." 

Mitchell took a deep breath and looked at Anders.  His eyes were uncertain but his tone was matter of fact as he said, "I want to restrain you, constrict your breathing, fuck you, and feed from you.  I want you to struggle and ask me to stop." 

That mental image had Anders half hard already.  "We've done things like that before." 

"No.  Not like this."  Mitchell shook his head.   

"What's different?" 

"No safeword, for one.  You won't be able to stop me."   

Damned if that thought didn't make Anders even harder.  "What else?" 

"You'll be afraid." 

"I've acted afraid before, Mitch." 

"Not acting, Anders.  You will be afraid.  You'll want me to stop and you won't be able to get away.  I'm going to hunt you, hurt you, rape you, and drink your blood and you won't like it."  Mitchell watched Anders' face as he said this.   

Anders couldn't help but smirk.  "You don't know that I won't like it.  You don't know the limits of my depravity." 

Mitchell raised one eyebrow.  "This will be past your limits." 

"When do you want to do it?  Tonight?"   

"No.  And I don't want to do it here." 

"Why not?" 

"This is our home.  Home should be safe." 

Anders frowned at that.  "You make it sound like you're going to kill me." 

Mitchell gave him a weak smile.  "No, I won't kill you.  I want to be well fed before we do this though.  Just in case."   

"In case of what?" 

"So things don't accidentally get out of control." 

*** 

Before Mitchell's big plan, Anders opened the refrigerator to find it full of blood.  He blinked at it and called to Mitchell, "I guess you weren't joking about wanting to be well fed." 

Mitchell came into the kitchen and shrugged.  "Better safe than sorry." 

"Where did you get all of this?"  Anders picked up a bag.   

Mitchell took it from him and replaced it in the fridge.  "Don't ask." 

*** 

Anders had packed an overnight case with a few changes of clothes and other essentials he might need for a long weekend.  He didn't pack any of the toys or restraints since Mitchell said he would take care of any desired equipment.  He carried his bag to the living room and set it by the front door.   

Mitchell was pacing back and forth, but stopped to look at Anders.  "Last chance.  If you want to back out, now's the time to say so." 

"We're good, Mitch." 

"Are you sure?"  Mitchell came and took Anders' hands.  "If you don't want to do this, I'll understand.  I won't hold it against you." 

Anders smiled at the concerned tone.  "I'm sure.  I'm looking forward to it." 

Mitchell frowned.  "I'm warning you, you won't like it.  Once we're there, I'm not going to stop." 

"We talked about this already.  I know what I'm getting into.  I'm a big boy, I can take it." 

Mitchell sighed and let go of one of Anders' hands to dig in his back pocket.  He pulled out a key and handed it to Anders, saying, "The address is on the GPS.  It's a cabin, kind of isolated.  No one will hear if we make any noise or anything." 

Anders leaned in to nip at Mitchell's chin.  "Planning on making me scream?" 

Mitchell's eyes flashed black.  "Yes.  And I'm planning on making you bleed." 

"That shouldn't sound so sexy," Anders said with a grin.  "Do we have the place for the whole weekend?"  He had taken Monday off, to give them a little extra time.   

"Yeah.  It's under a false name, too."  Mitchell's eyes changed back to normal.  

"Why?" 

"A little blood can look like a lot if it gets on the floor or something.  I don't want to have to explain to the police that no, I didn't kill my boyfriend, we just got really kinky.  Do you?"  Mitchell raised an eyebrow.   

"Point taken.  Are you ready to go?" 

"I'll meet you there.  I'll surprise you." 

*** 

The cabin was secluded, set into the woods at the end of a long road.  Anders had to admit that it looked like the setting of almost every horror movie about serial killers he had seen, right down to the porch swing.  Mitchell had been right, though.  He could scream his head off and no one would hear.  The thought sent a thrill down his spine.   

The inside was much nicer than the outside.  A big living room, a kitchen that had been stocked, an inviting bed, and a bathroom that was to die for.  Wooden flooring ran through the cabin with brightly colored rugs scattered around.  He made a silent promise that he was going to enjoy that giant jacuzzi tub for at least an hour before they left.  The shower stall looked big enough for four people, bringing pleasant ideas for what they could do in there.  He was happy that Mitchell didn't decide they needed to rough it.   

He pulled out his dopp kit but stuck his suitcase in the closet without emptying it.  He didn't plan on wearing a lot of clothes this weekend, so he wasn't too worried about wrinkles.  He looked around, wondering when Mitchell was going to get here.  He had a rough idea of the scene Mitchell wanted to act out, but some parts were vague.  He didn’t like planning things out to the last detail before they did a scene.  Besides, Mitchell knew what he liked.  He looked at the bed and bounced on the balls of his feet with a smile.   

Deciding to be a little proactive, he went into the bathroom and stretched himself open, making sure to use lots of lube.  He didn't want to ruin the weekend by being too sore to enjoy it to the fullest.  He thought about jacking off before Mitchell got there, but decided to wait.  It would be more fun that way and heighten the anticipation. 

To kill time until Mitchell showed up, he went out on the back porch and took in the view, ignoring the wet sensation of the lube.  It looked like there was a lake not too far away, but it was hard to see through the trees.  He walked a short distance into the woods, but didn't want to get lost so he went back to the cabin.   

He kicked his shoes off at the back door so he wouldn't track mud everywhere, but then was at a loss what to do.  The anticipation was killing him and he wished Mitchell would hurry up already.  Nerves were making his mouth dry, so he went to the kitchen.  A glance in the fridge showed beer and wine, and a bottle of vodka was in the freezer.  He knew Mitchell would get pissy about potential dehydration though, especially since they were planning on a feeding.  He sighed and got a glass of water.  After he finished it and set the glass into the sink, he turned around and jumped.   

Mitchell was standing in the doorway, wearing his leather jacket and tight black pants.  He was looking at the cigarette smoldering between his fingers.   

Anders pressed a hand to his chest and huffed.  "I didn’t hear the door open.  You startled me." 

Mitchell acted as if he hadn't heard, rolling the butt between his thumb and index finger.   

"Are you going to come in or what?" Anders asked.  Mitchell had rented the cabin so he shouldn't need an invitation, but who knew with that sort of thing?  Mystic powers were weird sometimes.  Bragi gave an indelicate snort from the back of his mind at that thought. 

Mitchell took a drag from his cigarette and then dropped it on the porch.  He crushed it under one boot, making sure it was out. 

"Mitch?"  Anders sounded uncertain.  He couldn't read the expression on Mitchell's face and this was starting to get creepy.   

Finally Mitchell reacted.  He looked up at Anders and smiled.  This was not the usual bright smile Mitchell wore.  This smile was slow and hungry and radiated menace.  Anders frowned and took a step back.   

"No," Mitchell said as he stepped over the threshold.   

"No?"  Anders fought the urge to retreat more.   

"Not your Mitch.  Not anymore."  Mitchell took another step inside and closed the door behind him.   

"Then who are you?"  Anders' breathing was starting to speed up. 

"You know who I am." 

"John?" 

Mitchell's smile widened.  "Not your pet anymore." 

Anders swallowed hard.  They had talked about this.  Mitchell had warned him he was going to let the vampire out, that in this place they would be predator and prey.  Anders had agreed.  Now events were out of his control.  He felt like a deer frozen by the blinding lights of an oncoming car.  All he could do was wait for the impact.   

Except he was shaking his head.  Even in jest, this was still his Mitchell.  "No.  That's not true.  You aren't my pet, you're my boyfriend." 

Mitchell crossed the room in a blur of speed.  Anders couldn't even register the motion before he was pinned against the wall with Mitchell's hands around his throat.   

"Wrong.  Your family thinks you're holding my leash, that I'm your toothless vampire.  They think I can be trusted, that I’m safe.  They're wrong."  Mitchell's fangs dropped and his eyes turned black.

"No," Anders whispered.  He shook his head, but Mitchell's grip prevented him from moving much.  It wasn't an act.  Mitchell had warned him, said he would say things that would get under Anders' skin.  This was hitting too close to home, though. 

"Yes," the word hissing through Mitchell's fangs.  "You're wrong, too.  You thought you had me tamed?  You can't domesticate a vampire, Anders.  I'm not your boyfriend.  I'm not your anything." 

Mitchell had said he wanted to hurt Anders.  Anders had misunderstood.  He thought it meant a little physical pain in the bedroom, not an emotional battering.  He shoved at Mitchell's chest, trying to get free. 

Of course, Mitchell didn't budge.  "Aw, what's wrong, baby?  Want to leave already?  You're welcome to try."  He let go of Anders and stepped back.   

This was not how Anders had imagined this would go at all, and it was starting to piss him off.  He strode for the front door.  He almost got to it and then Mitchell was there, blocking his path.  He turned and broke for the back door, but didn't even make it to the kitchen before Mitchell was blocking his way again.   

"What was it you said?  That making you scream sounds sexy?  I don't know how depraved you are?"  Mitchell laughed, lowered his brows and his voice dropped.  "Let's find out." 

Mitchell shoved Anders, making him land on his ass hard enough to make his teeth click together.  Mitchell laughed again as Anders spun to his hands and knees, trying to scramble away.  When Mitchell grabbed his ankle, Anders kicked and heard a grunt when the blow connected.  He didn't get far before Mitchell grabbed both of his ankles and dragged him back.  He wound up flat on his stomach on the floor with Mitchell plastered against his back, pinning him in place.   

"Give me your hands," Mitchell ordered.   

"Fuck you."  Anders struggled to get away but it was useless.   

"That's what I like about you, Anders.  You just don't give up."  Mitchell laughed and ground down against Anders’ ass.  “Ooh, and I like it when you wriggle.”

Anders got his arms underneath him and tried to push up.  His balance was thrown off when Mitchell grabbed the neck of his shirt, gave a hard yank, and ripped it in two down the back.  Mitchell flipped Anders over to his back, jerking the scraps off of Anders' arms and straddling his waist to kneel above him. 

Mitchell pinned Anders' hands down to either side of his head and said, "Now you and I are going to have some fun.  If you're good for me I'll kill you sometime in the middle instead of waiting for the end.  If you're not, I'll chain you up and use you for my own personal juice box.  Do you understand?"

Icy fingers of fear traced down Anders' spine.  Mitchell's voice was not threatening.  He could have been reciting a grocery list.  Anders still couldn't read the expression on Mitchell's face and it scared him even more.   

When Anders didn't reply, Mitchell sighed and rolled his eyes.  "Let me explain this another way.  I'm going to put something in your mouth, and you're going to be a good boy and not bite." 

Anders twisted his wrist, trying to free his hand from where it was pinned.  He whispered, "Mitchell, stop.  You're scaring me." 

"You should be scared."  Mitchell let go of Anders' wrist, but caught his chin in a harsh grip and started to squeeze.  "If you bite me, I'll dislocate your jaw and do what I want anyway.  Got it?" 

Anders tried to pull Mitchell’s hand away, but it was useless.  "Get off of me." 

"That's cute, baby, the way you think you have some sort of say in what is going to happen tonight.  Now, do you understand?"  Mitchell squeezed harder, forcing Anders' mouth open and bringing tears to his eyes.   

"Yes," Anders said, but the word was slurred from the way Mitchell was holding his face. 

Mitchell let go and watched Anders blink the tears away.  "Aw, don't cry.  You're going to get what you always wanted.  I'm going to fuck you stupid before you die in my arms." 

Fear tightened around Anders' chest, making it harder to breathe.  "That’s not what I want." 

"Don't lie.  It's what you've wanted since you knew what I was.  No one who wants a long life would take a vampire for a lover," Mitchell scoffed. 

Anders could hear the ache under the words.  Streaks of pain laced through his fear and he knew Mitchell wasn’t acting about this.  Maybe on the surface, but not down deep where it mattered.

He needed to talk to Mitchell.  Not like this, not the vampire but his boyfriend, his Mitch.  He needed reassurance and so did Mitchell, if this was the way he thought.  Normally Anders would be the last one to want to discuss feelings, but this was too big to ignore and hope it went away.  Anders made his tone firm, trying to signal that he was done playing but it came out breathless.  “Mitchell, stop it.  Talk to me.”

That predatory smile crossed Mitchell’s face once more.  “There you go, trying to order me around again.  I’ve already told you, you have no say.”  The smile turned into a sneer.  “Let’s give you something else to do with that pretty mouth.”

“Wait,” Anders said, but Mitchell ignored him.  “Mitchell –“

The rest of what Anders wanted to say was lost when Mitchell stood, wrapped a hand around the back of Anders’ neck, and jerked him to a sitting position.  Anders scooted away until he was sitting with his back to the wall. 

“That’ll work.”  Mitchell stepped up in front of Anders and unfastened his jeans.  He wasn’t wearing underwear, and pulled them down just far enough to free his erection.

“Stop.”  Anders frowned and pointed a finger at Mitchell as he said, “I mean it.”

Mitchell smirked at that.  “Aren’t you cute?  Now open wide.”

Anders pressed his lips together as Mitchell stood over him.  Mitchell leaned on the wall with one hand and used the other to aim his hard-on at Anders’ mouth.  Anders turned away and squeezed his eyes shut.  Mitchell rubbed the tip of his cock over Anders’ cheek, smearing precum around on the side of his face. 

“Open your mouth.”  When Anders ignored him, Mitchell growled and grabbed his hair, forcing Anders to face him again. 

Keeping his eyes shut, Anders rolled his lips under and bit them hard enough to sting.  He shook his head as much as he was able with the tight grip on his hair. 

Mitchell growled again, released his hair, and slapped him across the face. 

Surprise had Anders open his eyes as he gasped.  Mitchell had never hit him before, much less in the face.  It wasn’t hard, certainly not as hard as a vampire could hit, but it stung.  He stared up at Mitchell, frozen in shock. 

Black eyes stared back, but Mitchell didn’t hesitate to curl his hand around the back of Anders’ head and shove his dick into Anders’ mouth.  He let go of Anders’ head and breathed, “Oh yeah, there we go.”

Anders tried to pull away, but his head rapped into the wall behind him.  Mitchell followed, rocking his hips and thrusting shallowly into Anders’ mouth.  Anders narrowed his eyes and pulled his lips back, setting his teeth just behind the fleshy head as a warning.  Mitchell stopped his movements, but didn’t pull out. 

“You want to bite?  Go ahead.  You bite me and that little slap is going to look like a love tap.  And I’ll bite back.”  Mitchell opened his mouth to flash his fangs. 

Anders stared up at him as another chill of fear ran down his spine.  Mitchell had tried to warn him, said the vampire would be uncaged, and Anders had laughed it off.  Now he was here, in the middle of nowhere with a vampire that had no problem with the idea of hurting him to get what it wanted.  Mitchell wouldn’t kill him, he was sure of that, but there was a whole world of pain between here and death.  Anders relaxed his jaw, covered his teeth with his lips, and closed his eyes in capitulation. 

“Good boy,” murmured Mitchell, and caressed the side of Anders’ face. 

Anders jerked away from the touch.  Mitchell wrapped his hands around either side of Anders’ head, held him immobile, and slammed forward hard enough to make him gag.  Ander wasn’t expecting it and flinched back, but there was nowhere to go.  He hit his head on the wall again.  He tried to turn away but Mitchell didn’t let him.  Rather than give Anders time to adjust, Mitchell pulled back and then fucked back in, pushing into Anders’ throat.  Trying to swallow around the thick flesh was impossible, and Anders couldn’t breathe.  He tried to jerk away but Mitchell held tight and wedged his cock down Anders’ throat, pushing farther still until Anders’ nose was pressed into wiry hair. 

Anders felt his eyes watering and tears rolled down his cheeks.  He still couldn’t breathe and his heart was pounding hard enough to almost drown out Mitchell’s moan.  He started shoving at Mitchell’s hips to try and get him to back up.  He thrashed, trying to turn his head, stand up, slump to the floor, anything, but it was all useless.  Mitchell pulled back, allowing Anders to suck in a desperate breath through his nose, before plunging in deeper.  He was seeing bright specks in the darkness behind his eyelids when Mitchell finally withdrew and let go of his head.  He slouched down, inhaling deeply and coughing. 

Mitchell dropped down to sit in Anders’ lap.  He nuzzled the crook of Anders’ neck and licked a stripe up the side.  Still trying to catch his breath, Anders didn’t pay attention to what Mitchell was doing.  His heart was still hammering when Mitchell sank his fangs into Anders’ throat. 

“Fuck,” Anders barked, his voice rasping.  Mitchell had caught the big nerve there instead of the artery, and he had to have done it on purpose.  That _hurt_ and he tried to jerk away, but Mitchell held him immobile.  Mitchell dug his teeth in deeper and Anders panicked.  He struggled, trying to get Mitchell off of him, but his hands skittered uselessly off the leather jacket.  Kicking did nothing except cause Mitchell to growl.  He was helpless against the vampire’s attack.  He forced himself to stop fighting and as his breath hitched as he whispered, “Please John, please don’t.”

Mitchell sat back on his heels and gave Anders a smile.  His fangs were gone and his teeth glistened red as he asked, “What’s wrong, baby?  Not depraved enough for you?”

Anders pressed a hand over the bite.  It was slick and wet, and he lifted his hand and looked at it.  It wasn’t as bad as he feared, it wasn’t going to kill him anytime soon, but it was still bleeding.  He could see a drop running down his chest, leaving red tracks in its wake.  Anders was gasping for air.  He couldn’t seem to catch his breath. 

Mitchell laced his fingers into Anders’ bloody hand and rocked forward, rutting against his stomach.  When Mitchell tried to kiss him it smeared blood across both of their faces when Anders turned his head away.  Mitchell nuzzled into his neck, sucking at the wound again before he licked over the bite to seal it with his saliva.  Anders was feeling dizzy, there was a cool spot above his navel where Mitchell was hard and leaking against him, and there was blood everywhere.  His hands were tacky with it, he could taste it, and it’s all he could smell.  He swallowed hard to stem the wave of nausea that swept over him and his throat gave a sharp stab of pain. 

In one swift motion, Mitchell rolled off of Anders’ lap, caught him behind the head, and pulled him away from the wall.  Anders wound up face down on the floor with Mitchell pressed against his back.  At some point, Mitchell must have unfastened Anders’ pants because now he was working them down over Anders’ hips.  Anders got his hands under him and tried to push up, but all he did was leave a smear of blood on the floor and enable Mitchell to tug his pants down to his knees. 

“Well, well, well.  What’s this?”  Mitchell planted one hand in the middle of Anders’ back, keeping him pinned to the floor.  He ran the other hand up the cleft of Anders’ ass, sliding through the lube and circling the stretched hole.  “Is this for me?”

“No.  Get off of me.”  Anders tried to squirm out from under Mitchell.  It seemed like another lifetime when he had worked himself open.  Had he actually been looking forward to this?

“Oh?  Is it for someone else then?”  Mitchell’s voice had subtly changed, lowered and lisping.

Anders froze.  Mitchell’s fangs had dropped again.  He couldn’t see Mitchell’s face but he didn’t like the idea of a possessive vampire thinking he was sleeping with someone else.  He couldn’t gauge if this was part of the scene or not.  Everything had slipped sideways and he couldn’t tell what was real and what was staged anymore.  He was trembling and couldn’t think straight.

“Well?  Me or do you have a little something on the side?”  Mitchell’s voice had dropped into a growl.

Anders whimpered when Mitchell shoved two fingers into him, twisting and burrowing while making sure to avoid his prostate.  “You.  It’s for you.”

“I thought so.  Jesus, you’re such a slut.  Couldn’t even wait for me to get here, could you?”  Mitchell laughed and pulled his fingers out, replacing them with the blunt head of his cock.  He rolled his hips and drove forward in one hard, smooth stroke. 

It forced a grunt from Anders.  Mitchell didn’t give him time to adjust, just started fucking him hard and fast.  Anders turned his head, rolling his forehead against the cool floor beneath him.  Mitchell felt warmer than usual, and Anders realized with a jolt it was because he had drank more blood than he normally did.  It was his blood raising Mitchell’s body temperature and the idea made his stomach twist. 

Mitchell shifted position and slammed into Anders’ prostate.  Anders grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut.  His dick was completely limp, and he had never been less interested in sex in his life.  Right now he was focused on getting through this.  It helped that he knew Mitchell wouldn’t last long, not at that punishing pace.  He tilted his pelvis to change the angle and Mitchell clamped a hand on to his hip hard enough to bruise.  The zipper from that damned leather jacket was jabbing into the small of his back with every movement, and he focused on that minor discomfort to ignore the rest.

With a breathless chuckle, Mitchell asked, “What’s wrong, baby?  Not having fun?”

Anders clenched his teeth and didn’t answer.  He tried to keep his body relaxed, but he kept tensing up and causing it to hurt.  Mitchell’s hips were starting to stutter and lose rhythm.  A few more minutes and this would be over.  Sure enough, it was a dozen strokes later when Mitchell suddenly pulled out and came across Anders’ ass with a snarl. 

Mitchell froze for a heartbeat before asking, “Anders?  We’re done.  Are you okay?”

He nodded but didn’t open his eyes.  Anders didn’t need to see to tell that Mitchell’s eyes were back to the familiar warm hazel and the fangs were retracted.  The vampire was gone and his boyfriend was back. 

“Anders?”  Mitchell moved to sit beside him.  “Talk to me, love.  Did I hurt you?”

Anders took a deep breath and opened his eyes.  He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but he was relieved to see Mitchell looking at him with concern.  “Playtime’s over?”

Mitchell nodded.  “Yeah, we’re through.  How’s your neck?”

“I need a shower.”  Anders stood abruptly enough that a muscle in his back twinged in protest.  He pretended he didn’t see Mitchell reaching for him.  He kicked out of his pants and left them in a heap on the floor as he made his way through the bedroom and into the bathroom. 

He shut the door behind him and hesitated, hand over the knob, before locking it.  It was just a standard lock, the kind with the little switch in the middle that you twist to lock, and twist back to unlock.  For that matter, it was a standard interior door, lightweight and hollow.  Neither knob nor door would prove much of a deterrent to a determined vampire. 

Anders shook his head and started the shower.  He was being stupid.  The scene was over.  They were done.  Mitchell wasn’t going to break in here and hurt him.

His reflection caught his eye.  He had blood streaked all over him, even a dark smear across his cheekbone, in sharp contrast to how wide and shocked his eyes were.  There were tear tracks down his face, but he wasn’t sure when he had been crying.  He could feel the spunk sliding down the small of his back and over his right buttock, and he was sticky everywhere.  He turned away, not wanting to see any more.

The water was as hot as he could stand it.  Steam billowed out when he stepped into the stall and shut the door behind him.  The warmth was a balm on his aches.  He leaned forward, letting the water sluice over his head, and saw it swirling away pink down the drain.  He closed his eyes, raised his face, and opened his mouth.  He rinsed and spit, rinsed and spit, but he could still taste blood. 

A noise made him spin and open his eyes.  He watched the door, but nothing happened.  The knob didn’t rattle, no one tried to come in. 

He ran a shaking hand over his face.  What was wrong with him?  He should have fought harder.  He should have done something. 

What was he thinking?  He shook his head and grabbed the shampoo.  He was being ridiculous.  Why should he have fought?  He had agreed to this.  _You will be afraid.  You'll want me to stop and you won't be able to get away.  I'm going to hunt you, hurt you, rape you, and drink your blood and you won't like it._   Mitchell had tried to warn him.  It was his own fault that he didn’t listen. 

He stared at the shampoo bottle.  Did he already wash his hair?  He shook his head and squeezed a dollop into his hand.  Washing it again wouldn’t hurt.  He winced when he grazed a tender spot on the back of his head.  A flash of Mitchell shoving into his mouth, knocking his head on the wall.  He shuddered and pressed deliberately on the sore spot, using the pain to erase the memory as he got clean.

Maybe he was going into shock.  It felt like it.  He was still cold, even under the steamy water.  His hands were shaking, and he couldn’t keep his train of thought.  Can someone get a mild case of shock?  He needed to get over it.  He had agreed to everything that happened.  He had done it all willingly, and he had no right to act like some sort of victim now. 

It registered that he had been washing his hands compulsively, using the washcloth to scrub at the creases between his fingers.  He was clean already.  The blood had long since washed away. 

He dropped the washcloth and turned off the water.  There was a towel on the rack, and he roughly dried off, ignoring the sensitivity and tender spots.  He wrapped the towel around his waist, got out of the shower, and risked a look in the mirror.  He was still too pale by far, and his eyes were glassy with circles under them, but it wasn’t as bad as he feared.  Brushing his teeth helped too, and the mouthwash rinsed away the lingering taste of blood.  He ran a comb through his hair, but that was when he realized he didn’t have any clothes in the bathroom. 

This was absurd.  No one was out there but Mitchell.  Mitchell had seen him naked a million times.  Mitchell was not going to hurt him.  Hell, after feeding and having sex, he was probably passed out in bed already.  So why was Anders staring at the door and not moving?

He took a deep breath and reached for the door.  It came out on a shaky exhale, and his hand hovered over the knob.  He wanted his clothes.  He had to go to the closet in order to get them.  It was that easy.  He inhaled again, held it, and threw the door open.  The bedroom was empty and he exhaled.  He scurried across the room and grabbed a t-shirt and sweatpants from the suitcase in the closet, pulling them on without bothering with underwear.  When he went to return the towel to the bathroom he froze. 

There was a drop of blood on the floor.  Just one, gleaming dark against the polished wood.  He stepped over it and hung the towel up on the rack.  He looked around, grabbed a wad of toilet paper, and returned to the bedroom.  Crouching down, he hastily wiped it up but it left a circle where the drop had partially dried around the edges.  He spit on the floor and swiped the toilet paper across it again, and once more.  It was gone. 

After flushing the wad of toilet paper, he went to the bedroom door.  He stared at it for a minute, but he was being stupid again.  He could hear the television, so Mitchell was probably stretched out on the couch, sated and happy.  And why shouldn’t he be?  That is why they were here, after all.  Shaking his head at his foolishness, Anders opened the door and stepped out. 

Mitchell was on the couch, but he wasn’t laying down.  He looked up when he heard the door open and stood when he saw Anders.  There was nothing but concern on his face when he said, “Anders?  How are you feeling, love?”

“Fine.”  Anders shrugged, but didn’t go any closer. 

“I made you a snack.  Why don’t you eat something?”  Mitchell gestured to the coffee table. 

Anders could see a few plates laid out with fruits, vegetables, cheeses and crackers, along with bottles of water.  A look around showed that Mitchell had tidied up, too.  His pants and the remains of his shirt were gone, and the smear of blood was washed away.  It was like nothing had ever happened. 

When Mitchel moved, Anders flinched.  Mitchell didn’t say anything about it though, instead walking to the kitchen and opening the refrigerator.  Mitchell had changed clothes, into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt like Anders.  He was barefoot too and the leather jacket was nowhere in sight.  That made Anders relax enough to realize his hands were balled into fists.  He stretched them out and sat on the far end of the couch.

“Can I sit here?”  Mitchell gestured to the other end of the couch. 

“What?  Yeah.  Of course you can.”  Anders watched as Mitchell stepped closer and sat, not crowding him. 

Mitchell was keeping his movements slow and deliberate as he reached forward.  He opened a bottle of water and sat it back on the coffee table, within easy reach of Anders.  “Have a drink.”

Anders nodded.  He kept an eye on Mitchell as he leaned forward and got the bottle.  He drained half of it before stopping when Mitchell reached out again.  Mitchell didn’t do anything but scoot the plate of cheese and crackers within Anders’ reach, though.  Anders nibbled on a piece of cheese before sighing and sitting back. 

“I’m sorry.  I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”  Anders cradled the bottle of water close to his chest. 

Mitchell looked at him.  “You just got attacked.  Your brain knows you’re safe, but your body is having trouble getting used to the idea.  Can I come over there?”

Anders shrugged then nodded and Mitchell scooted over until they were side by side.  Anders leaned closer, bumping their shoulders together. 

“Can I put my arm around you?” 

After Anders nodded, Mitchell rested his arm on the back of the couch.  Anders snuggled up against his side, and Mitchell wrapped his arm around Anders’ neck and hugged him.  Neither man moved, and Anders slowly relaxed, letting the tension drain from him. 

“Thank you,” Mitchell murmured into his hair.

“For what?”  Anders let his eyes slip closed.  Now that the adrenaline and shock were wearing off, he was tired. 

“For letting me do this.  For trusting me not to go too far.”  Mitchell pressed a kiss into Anders’ hair. 

“S’okay.”  Anders curled closer until his head was slotted under Mitchell’s chin.

“And for letting me take care of you after.  It makes me feel almost human again,” Mitchell whispered. 

Anders didn’t know what to say to that.  He tangled one hand into Mitchell’s shirt and hugged him. 

Mitchell squeezed him back and cleared his throat.  “You need to eat something, love.  And drink some more.  I fed from you.”

“I know.  I will in a minute.  Just hold me for now, okay?”

“Okay.” 

Anders yawned until his jaw popped and Mitchell chuckled at the sound.  Yes, he needed to eat something or his blood sugar would tank and Mitchell would mother hen him to death.  He also needed to talk to Mitchell about some of the things he said during their scene.  If Mitchell really felt like that, it was a problem. 

Right now he was warm and safe, exhausted and tucked up against Mitchell’s side with the television playing quietly in the background.  He decided everything else could wait until later, and let sleep drag him under.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, kudos, and comments! As always, I am over at Tumblr. Feel free to leave a prompt, tell me about your headcanons, or just say hi! 
> 
> [ [My personal blog] ](http://myseri.tumblr.com/)  
> [[My writing blog]](http://saucywenchwritingblog.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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